Wednesday, 8 February 2012

If you think things can’t get worse they generally do

Have you ever noticed how one unfortunate experience can trigger off a series of similar episodes till it gets to the point that you either laugh (preferable) or cry?

Last week my iPhone4 was snatched out of my hand by a young yob on a bicycle, working in tandem with another who had managed to distract my attention, thereby enabling his friend, unnoticed by me,  to whizz past me on his bike, snatching the phone out of my hand.  Adding insult to injury, as I ran in hot pursuit, I tripped and fell forward, badly grazing the palms of my hands. So not only was I down to the tune of £400 (my phone wasn’t insured), I was also not able to work for a few days (it’s pretty much impossible to massage someone with bloody palms). In retrospect maybe it’s just as well I didn’t catch the little f***ers, otherwise I might be in jail myself now for murder or GBH at the very least.

A friend came to my aid. He had a spare iPhone 3 he didn’t need. So all I needed to do was buy a replacement SIM, and everything would be ok again. Well not quite. First of all we discovered that the SIM tray was missing. I spent the following day trying to find another. Eventual success revealed that the phone needed to be unlocked. I found somewhere to unlock the phone for me, but unfortunately, once I tried restoring my own phone’s settings from back up, the phone would no longer recognise the SIM. My friend kindly offered me the use of a LG optimus 3, so a few days later I brought this home and charged it up. Inserted my SIM and the phone was working fine. Not quite an iPhone, but a lot better than my old blackberry. I decided to download the appropriate software to my laptop. To do so, I was enjoined to remove the battery from the phone to locate the phone number. I located the number, replaced the battery and switched it back on. Apart from flickering into life for a split second a couple of times, the phone has since refused to power up. 

I was beginning to think that anything technological I touched would immediately disintegrate before me, so decided to give up and go to the gym. At least my old blackberry was working. I made for the Boris bikes that are docked just outside the entrance to my flat, inserted my membership key into the slot and nothing. No flashing orange light. No green light. Nothing. I tried the next one. Nothing.  And the next one.  I tried the central information point. Nothing there either. I called Barclays Cycle Hire Customer Services and was informed that my key had become faulty, though why is unclear. That’s when my frustration turned to laughter. The girl at Barclays Cycle Hire probably thought I was mad, but I couldn’t help it. 

I am consoling myself with the thought that all these things happened before my birthday. As neither the Western nor Chinese New Year had heralded any great changes, maybe my own personal new year would. I am not superstitious, but, if there is such a thing as karma, then I hope that the little sod that snatched away my phone also snatched with him any bad karma that was hanging round me. If there’s any justice in this world, it will all attach itself to him now. I hope that  he carries it round for a very long time.